Half Past Two
by Vicious Ventriloquist
Summary: At half past two, less than a week after Kira's defeat, Josuke comes stumbling into Jotaro's hotel room dead drunk.
1. Do Not Disturb

**Why am I deciding to post this story when I have another ongoing work in this fandom, as well as another work in another fandom? The world may never know.**

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It was half past two when Jotaro was wrenched out of the book he was reading by several loud raps on the door. Instantly the possibility of it being a hotel employee was ruled out, since he'd made it clear he was not to be bothered, and the only person who would have the gall to ignore his _Do Not Disturb_ sign would have to be either hostile or drunk. From the other side of the door came Josuke's voice, weighed down and slurred, and from his tone alone Jotaro could tell it was the latter.

"Oi, _Jo-ta-ro_! Why don't ya open the door, _pleeeease_? It's hot out here."

He sighed and marked his place in the book, setting it aside before making his way over to the door. Using Star to glance through the peephole revealed a distinctly Josuke-shaped figure swaying just in front of his door, a clear bottle in hand. He sighed again. Opening the door afforded a similar experience, though as Josuke came stumbling into the room Jotaro was caught off guard by the lingering stench of bad breath laced with alcohol.

"S'bout time," the teen mumbled, breezing sloppily past the taller man and brushing against his jacket in the process. "I was about to piss myself."

With Josuke making unintelligible noises in the bathroom as he relieved himself, Jotaro was provided with the opportunity to question the possible strings of poor decisions that had led to this point as he waited just outside the door. If his uncle died under his watch, he knew he would have to answer to both his grandfather and the kid's spitfire mother. He'd prefer not to do either, and in light of this placed a firm hand on Josuke's shoulder as he came stumbling out of the bathroom.

"Oi," he said, the first line he'd uttered since his privacy had been stripped away, "what the hell are you doing?"

The hallway lights reflected off of Josuke's glassy eyes as he stared back at him. Though they were heavily lidded, what little he could see was stained red—not that it was much, since he seemed incapable of forming proper eye contact at the moment. His composure truly was abysmal, and the longer Jotaro stared the more obvious it became that whatever he had been drinking and however long he had spent doing it, it had been enough to utterly wreck his cognitive faculties for the night, if not well into the next day.

"What d'you mean? I'm goin' ta sleep," Josuke slurred, clumsily bringing the bottle up to his lips.

Jotaro snatched it out of his hands before he could get one more drop, and the teen either didn't notice or didn't care, allowing the older man to steer him towards the bed.

"Yare yare," he intoned as he sat Josuke down, eyeing the nearly empty bottle of tequila. "It hasn't even been a week since we got rid of that Stand user and already you're acting like an idiot teenager." Casting a glance at him, he shook his head. "Wait here. I'll call your mother."

Jotaro made to go get the phone, but was stopped in his tracks by Josuke's (surprisingly strong, given his state) grip on his wrist, which was followed soon after by two arms locked tightly around his waist, fisted hands and sharp fingers digging into his coat.

"S'why…that's why…don't call her, please…"

He angled his head backwards, glanced at the teen currently groveling into his clothes, and said, "Let go."

Josuke's grip only tightened. "Please, Jotaro…"

"Only if you let go of me."

To his surprise, Josuke did as he was told, wringing his hands as he held his head between his legs. "Thanks…"

"…What do you mean, 'that's why'?"

"Hm?"

"You said 'that's why,' when I said you were acting like an idiot teenager." It may have been presumptuous of him to expect a straightforward answer from someone so obviously plastered, but if the alternative was sitting in awkward silence as he listened to his uncle hiccup, he'd be willing to bide his time until Josuke got tired and fell asleep; he could call Tomoko later. To his surprise, Josuke actually made eye contact before answering, and in the shiny depths he read something that he recognized.

It was the same something he saw in the mirror every morning.

"Since we got rid of him," he muttered. "S'why. Can't sleep, can't think…can't fix it…"

Somehow, watching Josuke desperately struggle to force out more words was starting to make Jotaro feel sick, but he didn't say anything in response—couldn't, perhaps, may have been a better way to put it.

"I keep thinking he's dead, ya know, we killed him, but then he's not when I'm asleep, and everyone else is. And you, and Mom, and Okuyasu…Okuyasu died too, and I can't stop it. I can't fix it…" He hung his head, buried his face in his hands. "I just wanna sleep."

He thought he felt words bubbling to the surface, but just as soon as he registered them they were thrust from his mind by Josuke springing to his feet, knocking the bottle out of Jotaro's hand as he sprinted towards the bathroom. Dazed, he stayed where he was as the bottle shattered on the floor, the remaining tequila soaking into the carpet, shards separating and catching the individual rays of light as they took up their new residence—and in the background, he could hear the sounds of Josuke retching into the toilet.

When he stepped into the bathroom, the stench of vomit was both palpable and unmistakable. He found his uncle slumped over, gripping the sides of the bowl as he dry-heaved, what little had previously been in his stomach not enough to offset his body's attempt to purge itself. Not knowing what else to do, Jotaro stood outside the door, leaving it cracked so as to keep an eye on him.

After the retching had subsided, he pulled his uncle off the floor, sat him on the toilet, and made him drink some water. Then, without uttering a word, he led him back to the bed and sat him down while he placed some pillows against the headboard; when he was done, he made Josuke lean against them, not daring to possibly make him sick again by having him lie down too fast. When that was done, he busied himself with cleaning up the glass shards, opting to save the tequila-soaked carpet for the hotel staff.

As he fumbled around on the floor, he saw Josuke sit up out of the corner of his eye.

"I can…" he mumbled. "S'my fault. Let me fix it."

"Go back to sleep. I'll handle this."

He shook his head vehemently. "I can fix it! Crazy Diamond!"

His Stand emerged, but it was behaving oddly—its movements were uncertain and clumsy, and Jotaro watched as it glanced anxiously between its user and Jotaro.

 _What am I supposed to do about it?_ He wanted to say it out loud, but didn't, knowing that it wouldn't accomplish anything. "It's fine, Josuke."

"Crazy Diamond!"

Jotaro watched impassively as the Stand attempted to fix the bottle regardless, all the shards and the leftover tequila rushing back towards each other with spastic, uncoordinated movements whose end result resembled something one would get from warping heated glass. The tequila wouldn't even stay inside, and dripped back onto the carpet.

"Damn," Josuke cursed. "Try again, Crazy D…we can fix it…" As he tried to push himself to his feet, Jotaro stood up and stopped him with a firm hand to the chest.

"You can't fix anything in your state," he deadpanned, pushing the teen back against the pillows. "Just try to get some sleep. If you need to throw up again, there's a trash can right next to you." Pausing, he said, "I have to call your mother, Josuke. She's probably worried."

Once again, Josuke shook his head. "Don't tell her."

"…I'll tell her that you're spending the night here. Is that okay with you?"

He nodded.

Jotaro breathed a sigh of relief. "Fine. Is there someone you _do_ want me to call?"

He already had an idea of what the answer would be, and was unsurprised when Josuke hiccupped "Okuyasu."

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 **This story is only going to have two chapters, so at least it's not long. Honestly, I just felt like writing this, and I had some free time, so I decided to post it. My other stories' updates are already in progress, anyway. I hope you guys like it, and thanks for reading.**


	2. Relative Clarity

**Here's part two. I hope you guys like it.**

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By the time Okuyasu arrived, Jotaro had succeeded in getting Josuke to quiet down. It wasn't easy, considering that the kid repeatedly insisted on fixing the broken tequila bottle every five minutes, but his attention was quickly diverted each time. This did nothing to lessen Jotaro's sigh of relief when he heard the tentative knock on his door.

"Uh, Jotaro-san? Are you guys in there…?"

Okuyasu's hand was raised in mid-knock when Jotaro opened the door, and he stared with wide eyes as the older man stepped aside wordlessly to allow him entrance. "He's on the bed."

When they got to the bedroom Josuke was as Jotaro had left him, back slouched and chin on chest as he leaned heavily against the headboard; Okuyasu ran up to him before Jotaro could get a word out, his hands hovering in the awkward territory between personal space and uncomfortable distance. "Holy shit, Josuke, are you okay? You look hammered." Josuke didn't respond, though his eyelids twitched as he shifted in his fitful drunken trance.

"Were you hanging out today?" Jotaro cut in, his voice coming out unintentionally stern. "Do you know where he got that?" He gestured with his elbow towards the warped glass that was now sitting on the table, noting Okuyasu's stiff posture and wide eyes as he followed his line of sight.

"We…we were just hanging out at my place earlier…" the teen said quietly. "There was some in my house, probably'd been there for years, but I…I didn't think there was any harm in having some. Josuke's been so stressed lately, y'know? I thought he…I didn't think he'd…"

The rest of the story, as far as Jotaro was concerned, was unnecessary.

"O-Okuyasu?" Josuke mumbled, eyes cracking open to take in his friend's now-stricken visage; he seemed to brighten instantly, relief painting his features as he sat up straight and clutched the other boy's arm. "How'd you get here…?"

Okuyasu swallowed painfully. "Jotaro-san called me. Josuke…why are you…why did you drink so much? You look like hell."

"What d'you…" Josuke paused, took in Okuyasu's worried expression, and frowned. "S'that why you're here?"

"Huh? What's that mean?" Jotaro allowed himself the smallest bit of surprise at the anger he detected in Okuyasu's tone, at the way he retuned Josuke's grip on his arm with two hands digging into his shoulders. "You said you'd go straight home afterwards, but you just stole my Dad's booze and drank until you couldn't even talk straight?! You could've died on your way here!" For perhaps the first time since Jotaro had known him, the kid was speaking rational sense. "And now you're asking me why I came?! It's 'cause I care about you, dude. I'm supposed to be the stupid one here! You're supposed to be…"

"Oi." Jotaro finally got a word in edgewise, and placed a hand on Okuyasu's shoulder. "I don't think you should yell at him right now."

"But I—" He glanced at Jotaro, glanced back at Josuke—at his haggard countenance, pointed frown, and shiny eyes—and visibly deflated. "…Yeah. Sorry. Hey, Josuke…" He removed his hands from the other boy's shoulders, reached towards his face instead.

Josuke clumsily dodged. "No…" he muttered. "Don't touch me…"

"Dude, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled—"

"S'my fault," the other teen muttered. "Couldn't do anything…"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Jotaro tugged Okuyasu's elbow, pulling him towards the other side of the room. "From what he told me earlier, he's been having nightmares since we got rid of that Stand user. Ones where things didn't turn out the way they did in reality. He was distraught when he mentioned your name. You remember what happened that day, don't you?"

Evidently he didn't need to explain any further; Okuyasu's eyes lit up with understanding. "…Nightmares?" he repeated, visibly distressed.

Jotaro nodded. "Have you noticed anything? Have you spent the night at each other's places since then?"

Swallowing, the teen replied, "Yeah, but…I noticed he was acting weird, kinda shaky when I woke up. I slept like a log, so…" He glanced back at Josuke, and the emotional agony on his face made Jotaro recoil internally. "…Is this my fault?"

"No, but he needs someone to help him out of it."

With a nod, Okuyasu inched closer to the bed and took a seat at Josuke's side as Jotaro watched from his position across the room. "Josuke…you know you can talk to me, right? Anything you wanna say, I'm right here. You can always count on me, y'know?" He placed a hand on the other boy's shoulder, shook him lightly to jolt him from his stupor. "You hearing me?"

It took a bit of time—due to disbelief, perhaps, or a sneaking suspicion that such reassurance was a concoction of his booze-addled brain—but eventually Josuke came round and looked at his friend with the first hint of relative clarity Jotaro had seen in his eyes all night. "Okuyasu…I…"

It was hard for Jotaro in that moment to feel nothing, to maintain a mask of indifference—though the desire to stay composed remained, he found it momentarily eclipsed by the urge to glance away from the fat, sloppy tears rolling down his uncle's face.

"Okuyasu," he said again, short sobs wracking his frame. The other boy pulled him closer, allowed tears to soak into his clothes. "M'sorry."

"What are you apologizing for? I should be the one saying sorry to you."

"But I…I let you…"

"No you didn't, Josuke." His hand tightened, fisting the fabric of Josuke's jacket. "You saved me, y'know. More than a few times. You did all the right things, so don't worry about me. I'm right here, dude. I ain't going anywhere."

For a moment, he thought his mind went back to an earlier time, possibly triggered by something Okuyasu said. It reminded him of what someone else had said to him. Whether it was his tone, his meaning, or a single word, Jotaro knew that someone else had said something along those lines to him once before. But it was a very brief memory, and he didn't want to recall the details, so he quickly set it aside—not to be forgotten, but not remembered either. And that was that.

It was no easy feat to get the drunken teen into the shower, but given the stench of vomit and dirt on his clothes, they figured it to be a necessity; for his part, Josuke was compliant about it, allowing the two of them to shed his clothes and not objecting when they guided him into the tub. He didn't voice a complaint either when his hair was matted down with water, not that his pompadour had been in great shape beforehand. For the most part he didn't need much assistance with washing himself, though he asked Okuyasu to do his hair. From where Jotaro stood just outside the door (in case his help was needed) he could hear Josuke humming a slow tune, with Okuyasu laughing softly as he muttered something under his breath.

"You two can have the bed," he told Okuyasu afterwards as he half-carried a drowsy Josuke out of the bathroom, the latter dressed in some of Jotaro's spare clothes. "I'll sleep on the couch."

"Uh, are you sure, Jotaro-san? It's your hotel room, after all…"

He glanced at his uncle, now effectively asleep from the bath and hanging off of Okuyasu's shoulder, and remarked, "He needs the space, and I'm bigger than you. Also, you two are…"

Okuyasu laughed lightly, his cheeks dusted red. "Yeah…you're right."

It went unspoken, but he didn't want to be anywhere near Josuke when he woke up in the morning with the mother of all hangovers.

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 **Hangovers are the worst. Some people have to learn that the hard way, including Josuke. Thanks for reading, if you got this far.**


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